A Fever that cannot be Quelled
by whitetiger91
Summary: After the war, the wizarding world began to change- acceptance of Muggleborns, Half-Bloods and Purebloods alike ran through the community. So why was it so difficult for her father to welcome her boyfriend with open arms? Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.


**A Fever That Cannot Be Quelled**

**_A/N: I do not own anything from the world of Harry Potter- for you, that's a good thing, trust me._**

**_This fic was written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition forum, round one. My team for it is the Falmouth Falcons (yes, yes, I know Puddlemere had Oliver Wood.) As such, I have tried again to write a Dramione, being my team mate's OTP and as such, a prompt (as listed below). Lyrics from the song and lines from the poem helped form my storyline (will be more than happy to point out if I did not manage to convey it, fingers crossed I did hehe). I do hope this gives you some enjoyment of sorts, and thank you for taking the time to read it!_**

**_A huge thank you too to Lokilette for being wonderful and beta'ing this for me! :)_**

**_As per the canon team motto: 'Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads.' (Um, yeah, they said it not me hehe)._**

_**Prompts:**_

**_-Chaser 2's OTP: _**_Dramione (Draco x Hermione)_

**_-song: _**_'Fever' by Peggy Lee_

**_-poem: _**_'Hour' by Carol Ann Duffy_

**_-word: _**_jitterbug_

**_Word count (900-3000 words): _2997 words**

* * *

Despite all the times she had been called a 'Mudblood', she had never felt as dirty as she did now. She wanted to take a bath, to cleanse herself, to become all new and shiny again. Yet, as her luck would have it, there was no escaping her father's disappointed glare.

"We raised you better than this, Hermione. How could you?" he sighed in frustration, running his hand through cropped, brown hair. "Please tell me this has only just begun?"

She looked down, not meeting his unwavering gaze. She knew very well that her father was already aware of her fairly new relationship, and that it had developed fairly quickly, so she saw no point in denying the facts.

"I love him, Dad! And I brought him here to introduce you to him, to see he's not-"

"You what? He's here? Where? Oh, just let me give the welcome that asshole deserves!"

"Daddy, please no!"

Her golden brown eyes widened in fear as her father rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt and marched towards the front door. Peter Granger never lost his temper; he was as sweet as they came. Even the local children were not afraid of him, despite him being a dentist. He always treated her as his little princess and could not have been prouder of her achievements at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, their present relationship was not quite so strong. In the year that Hermione had returned her parents' memories and brought them back to their family home in Lancaster, the positive atmosphere usually in the Granger household disappeared. Her parents were, of course, glad that she was safe and well, but she knew that they no longer trusted her for sending them away. Very few jokes were shared between them, and although they still laughed with her, their eyes no longer crinkled in genuine joy. Now that she had worked up her Gryffindor courage to introduce her boyfriend to them, her mother was too busy doing the groceries and her father was ready to kill the boy.

"Please, just listen. He's not like them, he's changed, he-"

"I doubt it! I'm not a fool; I know how that bastard treated you throughout school! You think your mother and I must be stupid, because we know that his family were the ones who caused those wretched scars on your arm."

She gasped, tugging her jacket sleeve further over her arm. The scarlet word etched into her skin was feint now, the 'm' in Mudblood being the deepest. She had desperately tried to hide it from her parents but it seemed they already had seen it.

"It makes me wonder what other details about your life on the run that you've omitted. What else did that scum do to you, hmm? No, that's it, that lad needs a good kick up the-"

"No! Dad, don't you dare-"

"Let go, now!"

Hermione had grabbed onto her father's arm in a vain attempt to pull him back. With all her strength, she tried to drag him back into the room, hoping she could somehow manage to get him to sit back down at the kitchen table and listen to her. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but she refused to let go to wipe them.

However, her father would have none of it and turned back to face her. She could see his face was turning red, a small vein throbbing just above his left eyebrow. His eyes held a fire in them, and his square jaw was tightly clenched. He tried to pry her delicate fingers off of the fabric, gritting his teeth as her sharp nails clawed at the threads.

"Let. Go."

"Please, just give me a second to explain. He really has changed. Please, just treat him right."

"I mean it, Hermione."

"Just let me show you-"

Before she could finish her sentence, she felt herself stumble backwards. Reflexively, she flung her arms out to lessen the impact as she slammed into the lavender-papered wall behind her. A slight wave of pain seared down her spine as her body began to tremble, but she was too shocked at what had happened to take much notice of the anger building up inside her.

As her father had pulled his arm upwards, the fabric of her father's shirt had finally given way to the tension- the seams tearing with a with a satisfyingly loud 'riiiiiiiip'. Part of the checked cloth was now sitting innocently on the tiles a few centimetres away, leaving a gaping hole in the shirt on her father's back.

Apart from the ominous ticking of the clock on the wall and the slow thunk of water droplets as they escaped from the leaking faucet and hit the sleek silver surface of the sink, the kitchen became deathly silent. She remained where she was, concentrating on her shallow breathing. Tears now fell freely from her eyes, leaving sticky, wet trails as they slid down her cheeks. She knew she had not sustained any permanent physical injuries from her fall and only wished she could say the same about the wounds to her heart.

Taking a deeper breath, she slowly pushed herself up, pressing her hands against the the wall for support. When she was confident her legs would support her, she dared herself to raise her eyes to her father.

Familiar brown eyes stared back at her, salty tears also swimming behind them. His face was now pale, devoid of any of the anger that had previously coloured his cheeks. Taking a hesitant step forwards, he reached out a shaking arm to her.

"Hermione, I- I didn't..."

His words faltered as his thin lips continued to open and close. As he took another step forward, she took one back herself.

Shaking her head, she had to clear her throat several times to remove the thick lump that had formed in her throat. Fixing him with the coldest glare she could manage, she held her chin higher.

"I'm leaving now, to go and see him. Tell mother that I may or may not be home for dinner."

Spinning on her heel, she swept past him as his mouth continued to gape open at a loss for words. Her shoes tapped on the floorboards as she made her way down the hall, and she wasted no time in thrusting open the front door.

"Hermione, wait-"

Sighing as she crossed the threshold, she had to resist the temptation to slam the door behind her. She could hear her father's heavy footsteps behind her, but whether he was following to apologise or to yell at her again, she did not care to find out. She stormed down the graveled driveway, turning past her mother's prized rosebush by the mail box, and continued down the worn concrete pavement. Their front door had reopened, and she instinctively knew that her father was standing by the door mat, obviously trying to catch a glimpse of her bushy mane.

She also knew that he would not charge down the street to come looking for her. He had to be at his dental practice in an hour, which was one of the reasons why she had so conveniently scheduled the visit at that time. If he had to leave for work, he would be too busy getting organised to make her boyfriend feel uncomfortable, or so she had thought.

As she trudged on to the park, a cold breeze picked up and scattered the red leaves on the pavement at its entrance. It sent a slight chill through her bones, and she wished that she had thought to bring a thicker coat with her before leaving the house in such a temper. It was not quite winter, yet the trees had long since shed their red leaves, and grey squirrels busied themselves hauling nuts up to their bare branches. The sight of their chattering did not bring the usual smile to her face; instead, her mind filled with bitter thoughts as to how loving the rodents could be to their offspring when her own father could not. It didn't help, either, that the grass beneath her feet sloshed with leftover rainwater, not having been dried out by the weak sunlight that shone through the dreary clouds above.

Another sigh burst through her pursed lips. Even if it wasn't overcast and was instead the warm summer's day she longed for, she doubted it would have improved her mood.

"Hermione, over here!"

That smooth voice, however, did. Her heart beat faster in her chest and she felt the barest hint of a smile tug at her lips as her world began to light up. She wasn't sure if she would ever get used to him calling her by her first name. When he said it, it was like music to her ears. Quickening her pace, she hurried forward to the blond beckoning to her, surging onwards until she stood in front of her favourite park bench. She had told him to meet her there so she could talk to her father first. He apparently had guessed she hadn't been successful, however, as he greeted her.

"I take it that he does not wish to see me?"

"No, not really."

"I didn't think so." Draco ran his hand through his silky hair before focusing his icy, grey eyes onto her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"No you're not. Sit."

She felt herself be pulled onto the seat, wincing slightly as her back hit the wooden frame. Although his face was blank, his eyes betrayed his worry for her. In a voice that hinted at his anxiousness, he asked, "He didn't do something to you, did he? I knew Muggles were a little unstable but-"

"No, no, nothing like that. I fell that's all- yes, I did," one golden eyebrow had risen in doubt, but she did not feel like dredging up the nasty details again. She felt a warm arm twist around her shoulder, and easily allowed herself to be drawn into his chest. "Draco, how are we ever going to make this work?"

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead in answer, watching as a large, black crow pecked at a clump of dirt nearby. His large hand rubbed soothing circles into the nape of her neck, and she shuddered in delight as heat rose from the touch of his fingertips.

Sneaking a peak to the side, she saw that he was still watching the crow intently as it danced around on its black legs. The sunlight formed a golden halo around his head, highlighting the Midas effect his fine hair held. She longed to reach up and run her hands through it, to feel its soft caress. His thoughtful expression had softened the strong structure of his jaw, loosening as he swallowed; his porcelain skin was still as unblemished as it was in their youth, making him look innocent. If only her father could see him that way and wasn't so stubborn. He had never looked better. No light from a crystal chandelier nor any expensive suit could make him look as perfect as he did now in the setting sun.

It wasn't as if she was the only one to begin a relationship with the 'enemy', either. She knew for a fact that Susan Bones and Theodore Nott were an item, long before the war was even over. Despite the fact that the Hufflepuff's aunt had died at the hands of Death Eaters, her mother and father had welcomed Theodore into their household with open arms. The world was changing, and though Ron had been a little more upset at their breakup, even Harry had calmly acknowledged her new relationship. She let out a bitter laugh. The Boy-Who-Lived could tolerate Draco, who knew more of the boy's flaws than anyone, yet her father could only cope by threatening to write her out of his will. It didn't matter, though. Time seemed to slow down when she was with him, and she wouldn't trade a single second of his company for any amount of gold.

Draco shifted suddenly as the crow flew off. Cupping a hand under her chin, he carefully tilted her face towards him. Her breath hitched, and she was tantalised by a stray whiff off his minty cologne as he leaned towards her. Their lips touched before her hands immediately flew to his head. She gave permission for his tongue to slip in and search her mouth hungrily, her eyes fluttering closed. As their embrace tightened, he pulled her closer to him, closing in any space that separated them.

A stream of fire coursed through her body at his touch, awakening her senses. Her heart thrummed wildly, trying to burst through her chest. She no longer felt empty and cold; rather, she felt as though the boy had given her a fever by the way her body ached. She longed for more of him, and eagerly pushed herself closer, allowing their bodies to perfectly mould together.

It was with great disappointment that he finally broke their hold, pulling back and staring at her in interest. When she opened her eyes and groaned, he broke into his trademark smirk.

"Better now?"

All she could do was nod and watch as his smirk widened. Standing, he took her hand and pulled her up with him.

"Good, because I have an idea." He pulled her to his chest, ignoring the questioning look upon her face. "Your father doesn't accept me because I fought for the Pureblood cause, right?"

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking…"

"So what if I tried to do a few more Muggle things?" He scowled slightly at the thought but looked determined all the same.

"Um, like what?"

The very thought of Draco Malfoy doing anything even vaguely Muggle-related made her nervous, but it was squelched down by the inner voice of curiosity she could never quieten. Lifting her hand high above her head, he twirled her around, smiling as she automatically complied with a stumbled pirouette.

"I could start with dancing. Mother made sure I knew classics like the Fox-Trot, but wouldn't it be great if I could show your father that I knew how to do Muggle dances too?"

"Uh, he's not really that fond of music and dance."

"Oh come on, is dance not important to Muggles? Come, I can show him that I'll be the perfect son-in-law by displaying how much effort I can put into these things. Now, what's a dance Muggles do?"

He looked genuinely interested, his eyes twinkling in wonder, so she decided it best to play along.

"Um, what about the uh, the Macarena?"

"The what?"

"The Macarena. Here, I'll show you." Moving back to give herself some room, she began to hum the tune to the popular song. Her arms jutted out, folded over, and swung over her head as her hips swayed slightly from side to side. As she jumped to the side, feeling her cheeks burn in slight embarrassment, she saw that Draco looked horrified.

"Oh, that," he gulped, and she could see his Adam's Apple bob slightly against his throat as he did so. Composing himself quickly, he pulled her towards him. "That's nice, but I'd prefer to hold you when we dance."

She felt her blush deepen, and wracked her brains for another choice. His touch was once again making her feel hot and flustered, impairing her ability to think as the fever he caused in her stirred up once more.

"What about the Jitterbug? Um, uh, it's- it's not really like the Tango or anything, but I do know a few things from when we did it in primary…"

"I think I have heard of that before. From the '50s, right? My Aunt Andromeda tried to teach it to my mother one evening, apparently, at least before Grandmamma had walked in. I wish I had been born to watch her shrieks."

She was impressed at his knowledge, not for the first time realising that he was actually very smart.

"But we have no music, so I don't think we can-"

"So? We don't need any. Ok, it starts like this, doesn't it?" He grabbed her hands again, swinging them to and fro slightly.

As he wiggled his bum at the same time as his eyebrows rose up and down, a giggle burst from her mouth. His antics had distracted her from the fear that her palms were sweaty, and she hoped that no passers-by decided to brave the autumn weather to see her awkward movements.

Remarkably, Draco seemed to know many of the steps. He moved back and forth, pulling her along as he tapped his feet and jumped around. Although some of the steps were wrong, no one would have noticed as his back remained in perfect posture. Despite how ridiculous she knew she looked, she couldn't help but smile and follow his lead. Part of her wanted to correct him, and eventually she stopped him.

"Ok, ok, that's good. But it sort of goes more like this." Boldly grabbing his hand, she twirled them down across the grassy hill.

They continued to spin, as time appeared to come to a standstill. If she didn't know any better, she could have sworn they had been in the park for hours, rather than the solitary one they had. Feeling carefree, she twisted around, laughing as it caused them to topple to the ground.

Draco shook his head, picking out a blade of grass that had caught in his hair and now tickled his ear. He lay down, motioning for her to do the same. Wrapping an arm across her waist, he placed the other above his head and watched the sky. She followed suit, basking in his company. Minutes ticked by before he spoke again.

"Hermione, you're my flame. We'll work this mess all out somehow, I know it."


End file.
